


Kat Scrap (aka Desert Love)

by itstonedme



Category: Troy (2004) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack Pairing, M/M, Meerkats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-09
Updated: 2012-10-09
Packaged: 2017-11-15 23:50:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itstonedme/pseuds/itstonedme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <a href="http://s227.photobucket.com/albums/dd116/itstonedme/?action=view&current=029a.jpg"></a>
  <br/><img/></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Crack!fic written March 2009 after the above photo surfaced.  A dear LJ friend commented that, in the picture, the fellows reminded her of meerkats, after which general mayhem ensured.  Cue Barry White.  First posted on LJ <a href="http://itstonedme.livejournal.com/17504.html#cutid1">here</a> with reader comments.</p>
<p>Disclaimer: It's crack, folks.  No animals were harmed except of their own volition and if they were nasty bugs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kat Scrap (aka Desert Love)

Eric stretched and yawned and stretched some more, pointing each leg right down to his toes, pretending, as he did each and every morning, that he was the dancer he secretly wanted to be, a hoofer just like his mate, Hugh. What he wouldn't do to highstep and croon to impress the ladies like Hugh did! It made him frisky just thinking about it.

After his stretching was done and his back had flexed and his shoulders been rolled, he blinked to rid the sleep and sand from his eyes and blinked some more, then rubbed them backandforth and forthandback super quickly. Next, he shook his hair to fluff it because, even if he couldn't dance like Hugh, he knew that his hair was utterly gorgeous. Then he scratched under one arm and then another, and then another and another, finally snuffling deeply into an armpit. God, he even smelled utterly gorgeous.

And finally, once all the kinks and chinks and fluffs and blinks had finally been loosened and done, he smiled. Because waking up was just the best time of the day. 

But between this thought and the next, the shadows of daylight reaching around all the curves and corridors to his room suddenly darkened. "Oy, Eric?" a voice echoed off the walls from way down the hallway. "Shake your arse and get out here." There was a pause. "Unless you've got company. Sorry if you've got company, mate." 

It was Orlando at his door. The youngster had more piss in his veins than Eric could face first thing in the morning. But despite his chatter and twitchiness, Orlando's heart was 24 karat, and it was agreed by all throughout the mounds that he was an exceedingly agreeable, stand-up fellow, perhaps a little earnest but well-intentioned nonetheless. One could always count on Orli to spot a free meal or chat up the ladies or help dig a new flat. 

And bonus: Eric could imitate Orlando better than he could Hugh.

Eric crept down the hallway, making his way towards the doorway where he emerged and sat up, turning to stare at the sun just because he could.

"Right. Here," Orlando enthused enthusiastically through gritted teeth, racing back and forth in front of him. "I brought you breakfast." He spat a wriggling, snapping scorpion on the ground at Eric's feet.

Eric looked down at it, lifting an eye brow. The scorpion clapped its pincers in every direction, clearly annoyed, and began to waddle off.

"Right," Orlando deduced deductively. "Not hungry yet, no problem." He pounced on the scorpion and neatly bit off its tail, then raced over to a pair of ladies the next mound over and laid the top half before them. They tittered and squeaked in appreciation, while Orlando fluffed and preened erectly to show off his erectness. Then he ran back to Eric.

"Right, I came to ask if you'd take me," Orlando gushed excitedly, standing on his toes, then hopping back and forth on all fours, his tail eagerly lifted skywards. "Please, please, Eric, pick me, pick me."

Eric lifted his head back to the sunlight and closed his eyes, inhaling his significant self. "What are you going about so early in the day?" he mumbled.

Orlando threw himself in the dust, his back writhing against the pebbly soil of the desert floor, hind legs tucked and nails curled to reveal two little round furry balls. "Please, Eric, pick me to be your ride. I wanna be the one you ride. PICK ME, PLEASE!!"

Eric's eyes snapped open and he stared at Orlando's rambunctious terrestrial tumbling. "Bloody hell, Orli." He reached down and pawed some dirt in Orlando's direction. "What's the matter with you? Cover yourself, you're making a scene."

Orlando flipped upright and ran around the mound first one way, then the other, then sat in front of Eric, fairly percolating. "I heard you were taking up riding and wanted someone to ride. Me. Me. Me."

Eric slowly lowered one paw to the ground, then the other. "Orli," he explained patiently, "I want someone to ride _with_ me, not _under_ me. Someone to take on my new toy."

"Oh," Orlando nodded. "Right." He blinked rapidly. "What toy?"

Eric stood and stretched some more and inhaled himself deeper still. "Come with me," he said. He walked across the mound, tail high in the air, Orlando at his heel, and down the ravine at the edge of his property. There, hidden from view behind some scrub and toiling in the morning heat, were half a dozen dung beetles, shaping and rolling the most magnificent orbs of shit this side of the Kalahari. 

"Boys," Eric greeted.

The beetles clacked in response and continued with their work.

"This," Eric said, indicating a curious construction of mud and twigs to Orlando, "is the chassis. The chassis is just about ready to be mounted on the wheels once the lads have finished perfecting their shit. Next will come the assembly and erection of the drive train. Then it's just a matter of fitting the seat and finessing the steering unit, and I will be the proud owner of the only Duo X Makeinout in the karoo." By now, Eric had puffed and fluffed to twice his size. 

"Wow," Orlando said, stealthily circling the work site.

"Orlando," Eric warned. "We don't eat the help."

All this talk of erections and mountings and seat fittings and, oh my god, _finessing_ , had started to make Orlando itchy and twitchy. "It's beautiful," he gushed, slinking along the ground, his furry belly rubbing against the pebbles. "Do you think you might take me for a ride sometime?" He slid onto his side, arching his back and pushing himself with the long nails of his hind legs, writhing and flexingly fairly fetchingly. "So that we could, like, ride together?"

Eric tilted his head, clearly puzzled but engrossed by the oddness of Orlando's flexes and fetches. "Don't do that, mate," he suggested.

"Okay, I won't," Orlando gasped, flipping onto his back, his tail flapping back and forth between his hind quarters as if he were trying to cool them off. "I'll stop." His neck arched so far back that his nose was flat to the ground. "It's just so exciting thinking about how you'll look on your new Duo X, the wind in your hair, it's just so exciiiiiiiiting!" 

At the mention of his utterly gorgeous hair, Eric shivered and shrank to the ground, taking a quick sniff off his arm pit. It was decent of Orlando to acknowledge his fabulousness; it sort of made up for his obnoxious display. But as he looked up, he couldn't help but find that from this vantage, Orlando's antics were particularly annoying. His head had disappeared from view; the only things that Eric could see and hear were the twitching flag of Orlando's tail, his little round nubbins taking the air, and empty promises that frankly sounded like they were coming out of his ass. 

Enough was enough. He leapt forward and seized Orlando's tail in his teeth.

"Yeep!" Orlando chirped and immediately froze at the proximity of cuspids to his hinterland. 

"Ah shed ta shtay shtill," Eric growled. 

"I-I-I..." Orlando protested, his hind legs starting to claw their way into the sky. 

Eric clenched his jaw tighter. 

*Wrigglewrigglewriggle* 

*clenchclenchclench*

"BUT YOUR NOSE IS COLD!" Orli shrieked. 

Until that moment, Eric hadn't realized his nose was cold, nor that its coldness abutted Orlando's furry little rump. 

But now that nose and rump were becoming properly acquainted, Eric detected a truly remarkable full-bodied and earthy bouquet, given Eric's appreciation for the earthiness and full-bodiedness of scents. 

Eric ventured another little sniff. 

The ruff on his neck stood on end.

Orlando's feet abruptly halted in mid-stroke, and his tiny toes started to curl.

What followed was enough to make the dung beetles take to the skies. Such was the roiling tumble of fur and frantic scraping of nails and sharp snapping of teeth, that it was nigh impossible to tell where one little meerkat ended and the other one began. Dust flew and fur flew and pebbles bounced off the hillside. There was much wailing and even more fluffing and bawdily growling, and in the end, both Orli and Eric lay flopped on their bellies, spent, one atop the other, panting and dazedly blinking in the sunlight.

"You okay?" Eric gasped.

"Mmmm, more than," Orli panted.

The beetles returned to earth and resumed their labors.

"Maybe could use that breakfast now," Eric observed.

"Right.....Eric?"

"Yi."

"Will you let me ride with you?"

"Mate, you can ride with me anytime. But we may need to get you your own bike."


End file.
